Dragon or Demon?
by ERJasandrea13
Summary: Love is indeed what deceives the heart, but only love can remedy the heart... An Irene Belserion one-shot story.


**The next chapter might probably be for Natsu, but my depressed fingers just sprang into action. I apologize for the grammatical errors and typos. Goodnight.**

* * *

 _Dragon or Demon?_

Everybody whispers, looking at her through their red bloodshot eyes. Not even eyes, just holes on the what you would call a face on their black, misty bodies. Surrounding her, surrounding her, surrounding her. She didn't noticed.

They argued on which category would she be on, but they never got any answers.

Her long, thick, scarlet hair flowing along the wind, _swoosh_ , _swoosh_ , the pairs of her braid hit each other. The sweet color of her hair looks nothing like the puddles of blood left wherever she goes. They're not even worthy to compare to her scarlet, pathetic thing coming from their pathetic hosts.

Her sweet marvelous fragrance would put any flower's in shame. It's so precious, for they're the last thing any human would smell as she takes their life from them, unlike the flowers.

Her steps were regal, graceful, and perfect, yet the sounds of those heels were enough to mark the incoming despair that will befall to any of those unfortunate who will hear of it. _Click. Click. Click. Click._

Her fingers. Long, slender, and strong. Any man would give up anything just to lace it with his. But alas, it's the thing that wraps around with the tall staff, that with a quiet _tap!_ they drop dead.

Her lips, her luscious, full, pink lips. Quirking in the perfect way as her prey let out their bloodcurdling, sickening, screams.

Her lovely brown eyes watches blankly as the fire started to crawl on the little sleepy town, _slowly, slowly, crackle, crackle_. What she did was to close her eyes, and maybe imagined that she's in a forest, with a fire burning in front of her, but the screams started and so she opened them- and they're filled with malicious delight.

Her laugh, rich, deep, and elegant.

Her blood, strong and powerful. The lovely shade of crimson, nearly looks like her beloved scarlet. And yet, her _crimson_ is perfect all the same.

Her sweat unnoticed by all and her as she adjusted her hat, shading her eyes from the sun's scorching heat. Her sweat becoming nothing as the small tap of her staff changed the temperature drastically.

Her tears, none.

* * *

 _Dragon or Demon?_

 _She's not human. She's physically human. But she's not human._

 _She's something more majestic. More breathtaking. Worthier than any of the species combined. She's a_ dragon _._

Her light-colored scales shining bright as the light reflected on them. The dark colored, fiery mane running down her back and arms, which appears to be connected to her large, feathery wings. There's a noticeable border above her nostrils that divides her mouth from her face, extending near the back of her head, screaming fierceness, and most especially, her pair of jagged horns, just beside her skull, fitting her perfectly, fitting for someone so powerful.

The Sage dragon can even amplify the power of its enchants. _Anyone_ stood no chance from the mighty being once it has been angered.

Her roars sends unending nightmares to humans, as they dread, dread, and dread if the great dragon will swoosh to their roofs, and destroy them all.

Her large wings so powerful, it could demolish an entire city from a couple of flaps.

Her blasts come and go, continuously if she wants, watched by the shining moon from above, as the nightmarish event takes place under his light.

 _She is the darkness that leaves trail of destruction in her wake._

 _But no._

 _She is more than that_

 _She is a dragon._

* * *

 _Dragon or Demon?_

 _She is chronologically a dragon. She is physically a human._

 _But she is naturally a demon._

She is just taking shapes. Taking forms. Even if she might not be a true demon, from the Hell's deepest level, she might as well be.

The demons curiously peers at her. Confused as to why one of them, someone who is very high and significant, was in a form of a pathetic being. But then, their confusion turned into amazement as they realized she is not one of them. What is this.. _being?_

Even the King of the Hell was captured by her, although he keeps it for himself, his subjects knew, for they were also under the same impression of the scarlet beauty.

And yet, as they watches her, the scarlet braids bouncing ever so slightly as she walks and the smallest smile, gleaming with glee, as she found her next prey, they did nothing.

They couldn't wait to transform her and let her became one of them. But at the same time, they can't. They can't afford to possibly upset their queen.

So they watch from far away, their admiration hidden in the shadows of her power.

 _She's chronologically a dragon. She's physically a human._

 _But she has a demon in her heart._

* * *

 _Dragon or Demon?_

 _Dragon? Demon?_

 _Dragon._

 _Demon._

 _Or..._

 _Something else._

 _Something else.._

 _Something else..?_

Her long, silky, scarlet hair hung from her head to her back, sticking to her sweaty skin as she cried out in pain, as she pushed, and pushed, and then finally, as she sank to the cool earth, her hands shakily carried the newborn. _A girl_. With the same lovely scarlet hair as hers, for a moment she felt the overwhelming burst of emotion, love and adoration, on her chest, but the strips of her scarlet hair covered her eyes, shading her from the baby.. her daughter... no.. _her_ _vessel_.

Her sweet marvelous fragrance was mixed with the coolness of the forest where she had given birth. She hastily cleaned the child, and wrapped it in a bundle of cloth. And unconsciously, she brought it closer to her face, and froze as another wave of the overwhelming emotions hit her in the chest. She could smell the child's scent, and it brought tears to her eyes as she recognized it as her's. The child is her's. It's her child. And then her daughter laughed.

Her steps, careful, and quiet. She found a village. Safe, and cheerful. She could leave her here. She would grow up happy. And not used to be a vessel. Her steps, quiet and hurting, turned to the steps of the small church. There, she lay the basket filled with her most treasured thing. Her daughter.

Her long, slender, shaky fingers tried to tuck her daughter's wobbly arms under the tiny sleeves carefully. Her fingers shaking so much because of the child's soft skin, her child. She started to get up, to never look again, to lock away her heart before she went crazy, but her index finger could not move, with her daughter's tiny hand wrapped around it, not willing to let her mother go.

Her lips, her quivering lips, formed the tiniest smile as she leaned forward to the basket, to the bundle of joy, and kissed its forehead. And for a moment with her eyes closed, she thought million of years have passed by. If she could go back in time to do just one thing, she would chose kissing her daughter's forehead until four hundred years have passed.

Her lovely brown eyes blurred with the amount of tears that keep pouring and pouring, watches intently to her daughter's rhythmic breathing. Up, down, up, down. She wished she could become like the mothers who were so fortunate to have the power to witness their child sleeping peacefully every single moment.

Her laugh, a tiny laugh, a first, as her daughter opened her eyes for the first time, and she realized they're the same hue as her's. Her tiny laugh, was joined by her daughter's, who was full of joy and love to her mother. The child did not know it's the last thing it would hear from its beloved mother.

Her blood, strong and powerful, yet cannot bear the heartbreak she felt after leaving her only daughter alone in the night, to be raised by strangers, to be raised in a way she could never do. She could never have the chance to do.

Her sweat noticed by all of the woodlands creatures, noticed by her, as she let her hands to slowly burn by the fire she created. She stared blankly, the pain all numb from her heartbreak. The lovely skin on her hands started to redden, then started to peel, but she paid it no mind. The smell of burning flesh filled the area, yet her eyes continued to became unfocused even when a little fairy hastily healed her hands and cried for the scarlet beauty's pain.

Her tears, drowned the whole world.

 _Irene Belserion is neither a dragon nor a demon, she is a mother._


End file.
